by Carl F Gauze

I’m not sure what creature Ms. Lafond portraying in her mink vest and orange swim wrapper. The obvious guesses are a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly, a child reaching adult hood, a lab rat in an experiment, or a woman aging and losing her looks. But whatever the transformation is she seems delighted with it. There are clues – three metal boxes contain increasing numbers of sweets. A television gives increasingly violent programs. Vast clots of yellow orange yarn emerge from her belly. She licks many objects, water mist delights her, and she sleeps like an internet cat picture. The collective arts writers of Orlando are deeply confused and conflicted over the inner meaning, but whatever Ms Lafond aims for, it’s utterly fascinating. My big piece of advice: do everything you can to sit in the front row. The show is performed on the floor, and anyone taller than midget ahead of you will block the show. Dance, mine or clown, I couldn’t advise. But it’s a unique Fringe experience.